


On Night Time Frivolities

by Defira



Series: In Her Shadows [3]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Childhood Trauma, F/M, Female Character In Command, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[The archive warning applies for inferred sexual grooming of a thirteen year old in a flashback]</p><p>A few weeks after accepting Lieutenant Pierce onto her crew, Tahrin begins to doubt that the soldier is adapting to life in the employ of a Sith all that well.</p><p>Or perhaps the problem is more that she is not adapting all that well to the presence of such a challenging man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Night Time Frivolities

Tahrin made meals a structured affair whenever they were aboard together. They were a crew, of sorts, and she their captain, and a ship needed discipline and order. Quinn of course was delighted by her attention to detail on such things, the others less so; their whims were of little concern to her. If she was to keep them in check, it was only right that there be formalities in place such as regular meals. 

There were the inevitable grouches, most of which were silenced just with her narrowing her eyes, and within time they came into the habit of wandering into the meeting room of their own accord without her silent prompting or Quinn’s nagging. The concept of conversation at the dinner table was still something that mystified her, of course, so usually she would make them run their daily reports for her- all that was required on her part was nodding, with the occasional command or interjection. Sometimes the crew distracted themselves, and before she knew it Vette and Jaesa and Pierce were laughing and teasing one another with the occasional barb thrown in the direction of Quinn, who sat stiffly opposite them, and her attempts at an orderly meal would be in ruins. 

She was getting better at it, understanding the various social cues and the interactions and the body language of something she suspected was friendship. She still over-analysed, unable to turn off the training of a lifetime as much as she might desire to sometimes. She still saw everything they did not want her to see, every hesitation, every false inflection, every subtle indicator processed and discarded between one word and the next. It unnerved them, at times, and she knew they found her intimidating even in her casual moods.

She was getting better at it, but she still had a long way to go. 

It was a typical meal, on a typical evening; they were en route to Nar Shaddaa, clearing up some old business from Vette’s past. The meal, surprisingly enough, was passing in relative silence but for the scrape of cutlery against the plates, and Tahrin was grateful for the reprieve. Quinn sat at the far end of the table, the muscles in his neck tense enough that she could easily read his displeasure. Jaesa and Vette were sitting side by side yet again, firm friends in no time at all, and Pierce was sitting opposite with his boots up on the table. Tahrin stared flatly at him, but he merely grinned around a mouthful of food and winked widely at her. The two young women both giggled. 

“Your table manners do you no credit, Lieutenant,” she said coolly, trying to ignore the small flutter in her stomach at his wink. A foolish physical reaction on her part, one easily dismissed. 

“Good thing you pay us in advance then, m’Lord,” he said smugly. “I’m all set for credits for the time being.”

“You have not been with us for long, so I shall give you the benefit of the doubt for now. Your tongue will get you into trouble one day, Pierce.”

“I certainly _hope so_ , m’Lord.”

Jaesa and Vette dissolved into giggles, and after a moment Tahrin discerned the meaning behind their amusement. Despite her best efforts, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and her eyes flicked down to her plate rather than meet their smug gazes. “Your assumptions are enough to see you on reprimand, Lieutenant,” she said evenly, ignoring the heat that had built in her belly at the image of Pierce between her legs. “You tread a fine line.”

“My Lord, I can add the reprimand into the database as soon as the meal is done,” Quinn said, ever eager.

Pierce simply smirked at her, and spread his hands wide. “What’s a man to do?” he asked cryptically, a smile on his face. 

Tahrin’s gaze flickered back to Quinn. “That won’t be necessary, thank you Captain.”

She saw the lines of tension around Quinn’s mouth, the unhappiness in his eyes clearly visible. The two younger women exchanged significant looks and went back to their meals, and Pierce merely smirked. She returned to her meal as well, aware of the increased tension in the room, aware that she had faltered in some way.

She should have reprimanded him. She should have maintained her distance. She couldn’t have her crew thinking she was pliable, that their disrespect would go unnoticed. 

She should have done something. 

Her hand tightened around the spoon until she felt the metal warp beneath her fingers. 

There was a clatter of plates, and she glanced up to see what the disturbance was to be this time. 2V-R8 stood beside Quinn, and appeared to have been attempting to clear the table. Quinn, for whatever reason, appeared to have stopped the droid from doing so.

She raised her good eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Captain?”

The muscles along his jaw tensed again; he was deeply unhappy tonight, more so than normal. “My Lord, a matter has come to my attention that I believe requires urgent consideration,” Quinn said tightly, batting at the droid when he attempted to clear the dishes away yet again. “Discourteous behaviour on the part of other crew members that has compromised the recommended hours of sleep, which by my calculations has decreased productivity by 2% due to fatigue.”

Her eyebrow remained up. “Someone has been keeping you up at night, Captain?”

He nodded sharply, and then turned his attention to Vette. “I must insist that if you persist in your need to read late at night, that you at least consider the needs of others in the crew area,” he said tersely. “The sleeping quarters have clearly marked hours of rest, and if you desire to stay awake beyond these hours there are other areas of the ship that will suit you.”

For a moment after he finished speaking, there was only silence and Tahrin looked to Vette for her reaction. The Twi’lek was staring at Quinn open mouthed, and Tahrin couldn’t tell if she looked horrified, or if she was about to burst out laughing. 

An odd reaction to being brought to task for reading too late into the night, to be sure. 

The reactions of the other two was even more startling, for Jaesa choked back a laugh behind her hand at the same time that Pierce barked out a laugh as he swung his legs off the table and crossed his arms, looking at Quinn incredulously. “Mate, you can’t possibly be that daft,” he said, shaking his head in amazement.

Tahrin narrowed her eyes, gaze flicking between the four of them. “While such a reprimand seems genuinely heartfelt, Captain,” she said slowly, “I wonder why you thought it appropriate to discipline one of my crew members without consulting me first.”

Quinn flushed red, the colour trailing down his neck and below his collar. “Sincerest apologies, my Lord,” he said, ducking his head. “I am simply concerned for efficiency, you see- it does us no good if-”

“She got your message, Cap,” Pierce interrupted. “She won’t keep you awake any more with her late night _reading sessions_.”

Vette and Jaesa shared a look and burst into hysterical laughter, Vette burying her face on the other girl’s shoulder. 

Tahrin’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I am apparently missing a joke,” she said curtly. “Perhaps if I spent an evening in the crew quarters I would understand what all the fuss is about.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that, my Lord,” Jaesa said quickly.

“You can always share my bunk,” Pierce said with a smile that made her thighs clench together beneath the table. 

Tahrin stared at them one by one, at the laughter and the flushed cheeks and the embarrassment in Quinn’s eyes and the lingering mortification in Vette’s face, despite her humour. She ran their words back through her head, searching for innuendos that she would have missed on a first pass.

“Masturbation,” she said calmly, looking at them for confirmation. “You are speaking of masturbation, correct?”

“ _My Lord_ ,” Quinn hissed, the colour in his cheeks deepening. “This is _not_ appropriate conversation for the dinner table!”

“It is a need of the body,” she countered firmly, aware now of the source of his embarrassment but somewhat bemused by it. “Just as providing food and rest and water is a need of the body. I do not see how it is an inappropriate topic.”

Pierce chuckled, his eyes dancing merrily. “And suddenly I like this ship even more,” he said.

She cast him a frustrated look, exasperated at his need to interrupt. “Quinn, if you made yourself clear from the outset, we could have avoided confusion. I am certain that the other crew will take into account the need to respect the curfew set on the sleeping quarters now that the issue has been raised.”

The four of them stared at her, and the weight of their gazes made her frustration grow yet again. “What?” she snapped finally, trying to reign in her irritation.

Jaesa swallowed nervously, and licked her lips before saying in a quiet voice “Well, it’s just that… you’re basically trying to add, um, _masturbation time_ into the daily schedule?”

She drummed her fingers angrily on the table top. “Yes? There are noted benefits to regular sexual conduct. As there are to regular sleeping hours. If we are to avoid disharmony, it would be best to schedule separate times for both so that they do no overlap.”

“Are you going to stop by my bunk to make sure I’m jerking off at the times I’m s’posed to?” Pierce said, smiling that ridiculously cocky smile again. “What punishments will we get if you catch us diddling at the wrong times?”

Heat flooded her face again, and she felt the Force seethe beneath her skin. In her hand, the spoon whined briefly from the pressure and then snapped completely. Something unpleasant must have shown in her face, because the merriment and laughter in the room evaporated, and Jaesa’s chair squeaked as she inched backwards. The look in Pierce’s eyes sharpened, the challenge still there, but the smirk left his lips. 

Vette’s hand appeared hesitantly over hers. “You okay, boss?” she said carefully.

Tahrin’s gaze snapped around to hers, and Vette sat backwards quickly, removing her hand. Anger and frustration and something else hot and desperate seethed within her, and she did not have the patience or the grace to deal with them as friends. She came quickly to her feet.

“There will be no other discussions on this topic,” she said, and she heard the echo in her voice, the darker edge, and she saw the red creeping in on the corner of her gaze. “This mockery and insolence will not go unforgotten, or unforgiven. I have clearly marked the curfews for this ship, and as I am the master of this ship, and the master of each of you, I expect to be obeyed. Is that clear?”

Quinn’s stammered agreement came quickly, followed quietly by Jaesa. Vette followed reluctantly a moment later, and only Pierce remained. Tahrin turned her gaze to him, aware that the rage was building in her wildly. “Is that clear, Lieutenant?” she snarled.

He didn’t even flinch. “Crystal, m’Lord,” he said, not a hint of laughter in his eyes. 

She stared at him a moment longer, feeling herself waver, feeling the rage dip for a moment; she spun on her heel and stormed from the room, flinging it closed behind her with a flick of her wrist and a touch of the Force. The booming echo of the seals satisfied her anger for a brief moment, but only a moment.

In her room she locked the door and paced, peeling away pieces of her armour as she went. She did not dress in full formal armour whilst aboard the ship, but appearances had to be maintained, standards needed to be set, and fuck if she hadn’t failed time and again to hold herself to such standards.

To allow herself to grow flustered over something as simple as masturbation, of all things! She tore off her body armour and threw it across the cabin, feeling the rush of cooled air against her flushed skin. She only wore a light linen shift beneath, and even it felt irritating as it brushed over her as she moved. 

_Control_. She needed to regain _control_ ; she was nothing if she did not have control of the wilder emotions within her. She would not let herself be reduced to a slavering, mindless beast the way so many other Sith did. Her skin was tight and hot, and heat writhed within her, and her head was awash with images of Pierce and all of his filthy, inappropriate suggestions. 

She ran a hand over her face, aware she was panting as if she had sprinted a great distance, aware that her hand was shaking. She had neither the time nor the inclination for such an indiscretion- she had no need for it, no desire. Sexual relations had been covered very early in her training, several weeks after her first blood had arrived. By the calendars as she knew them, she had been thirteen at the time, and it had been just another lesson in an unending schedule of lessons. 

There had been a man- a boy, really, in retrospect- a Chiss, and he had not given her his name. Some of her teachers never did. He had led her to the bedroom, and smiled as he taught her, smiled as he fucked her, but there was nothing kind in his eyes. She had learned of the body from him, learned of the ways to pleasure and please even if it did only confuse and frighten her. She learned the science of pleasure, learned of the emotions and the chemicals that drove otherwise sensible men and women to distraction. 

After several days in his care, he had left, never to be seen again. Once a year she had been expected to replicate the teachings, to assure her faceless masters that she had not lost the skills they desired in her. 

To her, masturbation fulfilled a need of the body, nothing more. But clearly she had misstepped tonight amongst the crew, clearly she had missed a crucial social cue or crossed some unspoken boundary- how else to explain their behaviour? How else to explain the way Pierce had reacted to her so, with such vivid imaginings, suggestions that left her hot and flustered and frustrated? 

The man toed the line at the best of times, but tonight his behaviour had been almost impossible to believe. She shimmied out of her pants, leaving them on the floor where they fell. The internal air system was cool, and the cold air brushing against her skin made her shiver. 

Wretched _man_ , wretched _crew_ , she needed calm, she needed control. She dropped onto the ground, assuming a comfortable position to begin her meditations, but with a snarl gave up after only a few seconds. There was so much irritation crawling within her, making her fidget, making it impossible for her to centre herself. 

She paced, petulantly flinging her pillows across the room and back again with the use of the Force.

She kept coming back to his face, to that particular smirk of his, to the laughter in his eyes, the defiance in his voice. Did he respect her? Fear her? Desire her? Mock her? Did he think to curry her favour by bedding her, earn her protection by warming her bed? 

What did he _want_ from her?

With a half shrieked snarl, she threw one of the pillows against the wall so fiercely that it exploded, a mess of synthetic fibres and fluff bursting out of it and onto the floor. She hissed in frustration and cast it into the corner, seething from confusion and want and anger. 

She had never thought twice about whether or not to masturbate before, a function of the body and nothing more, but now his face was looming in her mind, his smile sending her stomach into knots, and she did not know whether to award him the victory it seemed to imply.

She hissed out a breath, and dropped onto the bed, her legs wide and hanging over the edge as she ran her hand quite deliberately over her stomach. There was no point in games, no point in teasing; it served a function, nothing more, and release by her own hand came swiftly at the most bland of times. This was not a bland and boring time, of that she was sure.

She knew her own body well, or so she thought; she did not understand the heat sizzling in her, leaving her breathless and trembling. It frustrated her immensely, anger warring with lust within her. But she knew her own body enough to know what would bring her to completion the fastest. That at least had not changed.

She slipped her hand beneath her underthings and between her legs, choking on a cry at the surge of pleasure even a simple touch brought her. This was his doing, his damnable influence. It was his fault that her thoughts were tangled up, her control gone. It was his fault that she writhed in the dark of her own room, biting her own hand to hold back her cries while she taunted and teased with the other. 

She smoothed her own wetness over her fingers, leaving them slick so she could slide and delve at ease. She knew her own body well, and she knew how to leave herself with her breath hitched, caught in her chest while his face loomed large in her thoughts.

When she came, it was not the pleasant release she was accustomed to, the unwinding of muscles too tense and too tight from the aggressive life she lived. Instead her back arched from the bed, a sob choked back and smothered by her hand, fire and pleasure and pain locking her out of her own head. She tasted blood in her mouth, teeth biting too hard into the flesh of her hand. It was exhilarating. It was excruciating.

It was unacceptable.

When her mind was her own again, and her breathing had calmed, she levered off the bed to the wash station, cleaning all traces of such foolishness from her body. Her hand was bloodied, the row of teeth marks anything but discreet. She washed it slowly, shivering as the water ran over still sensitive skin, wondering whether it was worth the trip to the med bay. Jaesa liked to study there, and after the encounter during dinner she didn’t fancy trying to explain herself. 

She didn’t want to stay in her room though- it stank of her own arousal, and roused too many images in her head that she’d rather not deal with. Too many complications. Checking the holopad by her bed and noting the late hour, she gambled that most of them would be abed, or in their preferred locations. 

“Check ship trajectory,” she said softly, tapping the holopad again to bring up a schematic of the ship.

“On course to Nar Shaddaa.” The voice was pleasant, if somewhat lifeless. “Time to arrival, nine hours seventeen minutes.”

“Locate crew.”

The schematic rose up from the holopad, a little blue ship dancing in the dark of her room. There were red glowing blobs, and all but one was confined to the crew quarters. A lone red light flickered in the direction of the engine room, and she closed the schematic with a flick of her wrist. She didn’t blame Vette for wanting some space from the awkwardness that had ensued at dinner. 

Dressing lightly, a linen shift and unarmoured pants, she eased open the door to check that she was truly alone. But for the hum of the engines, there was nothing to be heard; the lights in the main cabin had been dimmed, and it seemed she was indeed alone. On bare feet she silently padded across the room and made her way to the bridge, where the rumble of the engines faded and she was left alone with the immensity of the sky. 

She stood on the bridge and stared out at the stars, the galaxy hers to explore and command and conquer as she saw fit. Or disappear into, as the case may be, if the wretched politics of the Sith Lords grew any worse.

Her goals seemed so uncomplicated in principle. But the galaxy, she was coming to learn, was not as simple and easy to analyse as she would have liked. How wretched that it had taken her two years to acknowledge such a truth.

A cough sounded behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, her jaw clenching when she saw Pierce standing in the doorway. He was tense, and distracted; the way his eyes darted away quickly, the way his fingers moved against his thigh constantly, as if he were itching for a fight- she read every little movement, every twitch, every shift of muscle.

Yet he was not so simple to read as the other three. 

“Lieutenant,” she said evenly. “You are out past curfew.”

His voice was a rumble of amusement. “Apologies, m’Lord.”

She turned back to the sky, allowed herself the indulgence of a half smile beyond his view. “A little late in the evening for apologies, Lieutenant.”

“Points for trying though, surely.”

His meaning was so strange- what kind of point system was he possibly referring to? “You have sought me out, Lieutenant, clearly there is something on your mind,” she said. “Say it and be gone, I’m in no mood for company.”

He hesitated for only the briefest moment- were she not looking for it, she would have missed it. “I’ll be frank, m’Lord- all that in there-” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the meeting room with a jerk of his head, a motion she felt if not saw, “- that was for Quinn’s sake.”

She raised her good eyebrow and looked back at him. “You were baiting me sexually for Quinn’s sake?” 

He had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “I was trying to get a rise out of him,” he said bluntly. “Bastard struts around the ship like he’s king of the roost, and he thinks he can put the girls down without being called on it.” He shrugged. “Sorry, m’Lord, but I call bullshit on that.”

“Oh I see, you were attempting to be a white knight on behalf of the female crew members,” she said, clasping her hands loosely behind her as she turned back to the stars. “To defend their honour, perhaps? Do you think them so weak that they cannot fend for it themselves?”

“Now just wait one bleedin’ minute-”

“It is not an accusation, Lieutenant,” she said calmly. Strange how she felt so rational now, whereas only a few hours earlier he had her so distracted she couldn’t even think straight. “It is merely an observation. Your behaviour intrigues me. Do you think they are unable to fend for themselves?”

“Course they can. Vette’d gut me if I said otherwise.”

His familiarity with the Twi’lek made something unpleasant twist inside of her. “And did you _get a rise_ out of the Captain, as you so worded it?” she asked, aware that a frostier note had slipped into her voice.

“He went about his business without much to say on everyone else’s; baby steps, I guess.”

She absorbed his words, turning it over in her head, thinking, examining. “You are not to defy me in front of the other crew like that again,” she said softly, dangerously.

“Understood, m’Lord.”

“It would be very bad for you to do so.” The silken threat of violence sent a shiver down her spine and she rolled her shoulders to ease the ache. 

“Understood, m’Lord,” he repeated.

“Excellent,” she said pleasantly, turning back to him. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

When he did not move immediately, she turned back to look at him. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Your hand, m’Lord,” he said, nodding to where it was clasped behind her back. “You’re bleeding.”

She glanced down, unwinding her knotted fingers and holding her hand out before her. The teeth marks stood in sharp relief against pale skin, bloodied and raw. “So I am,” she said quietly. 

She looked at him then, met his gaze and knew that he already knew- or had at least guessed. Strangely she did not feel ashamed that he would know, merely curious as to his reaction.

That cocky grin, knowing and daring, the spark in his eyes. “There are better things to bite on in a pinch, m’Lord,” he said, his words vague but his meaning clear.

“I’ve never found that to be the case,” she responded calmly. “What need have I for idle distractions when I have everything I need at hand?”

His lips twitched in a smirk. “That deliberate, was it?” he asked.

“Was what deliberate?”

“Nothing, m’Lord. Just… didn’t take you for a biter.”

“Did you think me a woman without passion, Lieutenant?” she asked mildly, but she saw him pause, saw the hesitation take him, and she felt ruthlessly pleased that she had caused it.

He smiled that smile, but he was wary. A predator acknowledging another. “Don’t think there’s a man in the galaxy stupid enough to think that, m’Lord.”


End file.
